


Miracle

by mahons_ondine



Series: Ha'luach Ha'ivri [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hanukkah, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining Eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:43:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahons_ondine/pseuds/mahons_ondine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames has always had a bit of a thing for Arthur, if he's being honest.  Nothing serious.  After two years spent trying to find Arthur they finally end up on another job together, and Eames realizes that little bit of a thing has blossomed in that time.  It seems time has had the opposite effect on Arthur, though.  </p><p>This is a Hanukkah fic.  The main story is finished, but I'm posting small fics throughout the year for other holidays!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Echad

**Author's Note:**

> I am very impressed by people doing the advent challenge. I didn't feel I could commit to 25 days of fic writing, but I thought I might be able to manage 8.  
> This is unbetaed. I'm sorry for all the errors, they're entirely my doing. I may edit after the fact, but the story will stay essentially the same. 
> 
> One note on content--this started out far more angsty than I had intended. Rest assured it will not stay angsty for too long. It will eventually be tooth-rotting fluff.  
> Hope you enjoy!

It had been two years since Inception when the whole crew got back together for another job.  The whole crew that was still in the dream share business, that is.  Cobb was still in La taking care of his children, and even if Eames could hear the longing in his voice whenever they spoke about the job, well it seemed Cobb had learned something about making better choices for himself and his family.  So it was Eames, Ariadne, Yusuf, and Arthur.  Ariadne had grown a lot in those two years.  She could do any job Cobb could have done, and do it without getting anyone killed, or dropped into limbo.  Eames hadn’t worked with her much, but he kept in touch.  And Yusuf, of course he kept in touch with Yusuf.  Arthur was another story, though.  Eames hadn’t seen Arthur since he’d left LA.  Not for lack of trying, of course, but Arthur seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.  Eames had looked for him, but if Arthur didn’t want to be found it was essentially a given that he wouldn’t be.  And that was why Eames was stunned into silence, frankly a difficult thing to do, when Arthur entered the hotel suite they were using as their base during the job. 

                Eames gaped at Arthur, then turned and gaped at Ariadne, who just giggled at the look on his face.  Arthur, on the other hand, was not laughing.  He didn’t look pleased in the slightest, in fact. 

“Hello, Ariadne.  Yusuf.  Eames,” Arthur gritted out, before wrapping his hand around Ariadne’s wrist and yanking her into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.  Eames, being Eames, listened at the door. 

“You said this was important, Ariadne.”

“It is.”

“I have a life, you know.  I have other things to do.” 

“Yes, Arthur, I know.  I’m well aware.  I said it was important and it is.  Besides, we’re right in your backyard.  It’s not like you had to travel.”

“No, but—“

“Is this about Eames?”

“It isn’t about Eames.”

“Look, I know we’ve been through this, but he’s been dying to see you.”

“Enough, Ariadne.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just tell him—“

“I said enough!” Arthur roared, slamming the door open and knocking Eames on his arse.  Arthur shot Eames a look that had him shivering, before stomping into the living area and sitting primly on the edge of the couch. 

Ariadne followed Arthur meekly into the room, pausing only to pull Eames to his feet, and mouth sorry. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once everyone was situated, and they finally got to work they managed to keep things professional.  It was an easy enough job, actually.  And for once they were, if not exactly on the side of the law, then not doing anything particularly illegal.  They’d been hired by the parents of a college student who had been attacked and was in a coma.  The goal was to go into the boy’s head and extract the identities of his attackers.  The boy still showed signs of brain activity, and it looked promising enough.  It all really came down to Yusuf figuring out a compound he could use that wouldn’t be affected by the medicines the boy was on.

After only a few hours of work Arthur stretched, checked his watch, and groaned.  He checked his phone, mumbled something under his breath about sunset, and walked to the door. 

“That’s enough for tonight.  I’ll see you all in the morning,” he yelled over his shoulder, promptly left the room. 

Eames stared after him, gripping the arm of the sofa in an effort not to jump up and follow. 

“Never seen Arthur leave early,” stated Yusuf. 

“Yes, it was strange,” whispered Ariadne, looking guilty. 

Eames agreed.   It was very unlike the Arthur he knew, and he couldn’t help but feel it had to do with him.  He felt ill. 

 


	2. Shnayim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur celebrates the second and third nights of Hanukkah, and Eames finally catches on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers two nights because they're shorter, and I am going to need a couple chapters for one of the other nights. So no we haven't skipped a night!  
> Still unbetaed. Still full of wonky commas. A little more fluff to balance out some angst, though!

The Second Day

The next morning Eames slunk into the suite a little bit late, and a little bit hungover. He still felt sick, but now, at least, he could pretend the clench in his gut upon seeing Arthur had more to do with the half dozen whiskey sours he'd downed the prior evening, and not the coldness and frustration emanating from the point man.  Arthur, on the other hand, seemed in much better spirits, or he had his emotions held at bay through judicious use of his iron will. Eames could never tell with Arthur.  After yesterday Eames didn't want to be able to tell. 

Eames collapsed onto the couch, and shielded his eyes.  Did the lights really have to be that bright?  He briefly considered attempting morning pleasantries, but abandoned the idea in favor of an extra few minutes of quiet.  He had almost faded off to sleep when he felt his shoulder jostled.  He blinked sleepily, and stared up at Arthur.  He tried to wake up his tongue to ask what he needed, but it felt like sawdust in his mouth. 

“Here,” said Arthur gruffly, shoving a mug at Eames. 

Eames took the mug from him, and cautiously took a sip, moaning happily as the perfectly prepared coffee hit his taste buds.   

“Black, three sugars.  You know how I take my coffee.  You love me,” sighed Eames, grinning up at Arthur who just rolled his eyes in response. 

After that the day went smoothly.  Yusuf was testing different somnacin variants when combined with the cocktail of medicines the boy was taking.  Ariadne and Arthur sat down together to work out the logistics of the actual real world timing of the dream share.  And Eames, Eames prowled facebook, trying to learn about the boy’s social circle, and find a way to gain his trust in the dream. 

By late afternoon Eames had narrowed down who he would forge to a few choices, and decided to call the parents for their input.  He stepped into the bedroom of the suite for some quiet, and when he emerged not a half hour later the living room was empty save Ariadne. 

“He left right after you went into the bedroom.  I’m sorry.  I don’t know what’s—“

“It’s fine.” 

And it really was fine.  Arthur had brought him coffee.  Arthur knew how he took his coffee.  And Arthur would be back in the morning.  Eames would just confront him then. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Third Day

The next morning Eames was the first to arrive.  He brought scones and jam and coffee, and when he presented Arthur with his soy latte with an extra shot, well, he might have thrown in a little wink.  And Eames couldn’t be entirely sure, but he thought Arthur’s ears were just a little bit red when he ducked his head to take a sip. 

Eames stayed on Arthur the entire day, trying to find some sort of opening for discussing just what was going on, and why he was acting so out of character.  Arthur seemed to have other plans, however, and thwarted Eames’ attempts to chat at every turn.  Arthur discussed dream architecture with Ariadne; spent hours on the phone with the parents trying to organize a room large enough for them all to dream in, and played guinea pig for Yusuf.  When things finally began to wind down around four thirty, Arthur took one look out the window, and got to his feet. 

“I think I’ll be off now.  Ariadne—I want to see some of the basic architecture tomorrow.  And Eames . . . could you please decide who you’re going to forge? We only have four days to prepare, and I’d like to do a run through the day before so we have an afternoon to fine tune things.” 

And with that Arthur strode out of the room.  Eames watched his delectable arse leave, and made a bit of a snap decision.  He jumped up, made his apologies and followed Arthur out, ignoring Ariadne’s attempts to talk to him.  By the time he made it to the elevator bay Arthur was gone, and Eames decided that plan B was probably going to be best.  He wouldn’t confront Arthur here.  He’d follow him, and find out what he was up to. 

Resigned to follow through with his somewhat foolhardy choices, Eames flew down the stairs, through the lobby, and onto the street just in time to see Arthur pull away in a cab.  Eames threw himself into the next one, huffing out an order to follow Arthur’s cab, and settled in for the ride.  It was a quick ride, but not so fast that Eames didn’t have time for second thoughts and third thoughts, even a stray fourth thought or two.  Just as he had decided to abandon his quest they stopped short behind Arthur’s cab on a quiet street in the West Village.  Eames watched Arthur enter a brownstone on the first floor (street level is the ground floor, not the first, thank you very much), and thought he’d already come this far—might as well go the distance. 

Eames handed over his fare and climbed out of the cab, ducking behind a car when Arthur came to the window and opened the drapes.  Eames drew closer to the window, careful to stay out of sight, and watched as Arthur left the window for the wide, empty table a few feet back from the glass.  Eames stared, a slightly breathless as Arthur struck a match and lit a candle.  Arthur took up the candle and used it to light first one and then another, before settling it back in its holder.   

“A menorah,” Eames thought, or maybe he whispered it, “Of course, you idiot.  Arthur’s Jewish,” he breathed. 

Arthur stood illuminated by the golden glow of the flames, and gently fingered the base of the ornate, brass menorah.  He sat, slowly, and watched the flames. 

And Eames stood and watched Arthur watch the flames, for a very long time.  Until it was dark on the street, and one by one the candles flickered out. 


	3. Shlosha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames realizes how screwed he is, but also learns that maybe Arthur's bad mood has less to do with him than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was at work for ten hours today, and when I got home I was so exhausted and hungry I decided to really make this a short drabble. Then I wrote about a thousand words. Now I feel better.  
> Happy Hanukkah Inception fans! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy today's unbetaed commexplosion as much as I have.

The Fourth Day

Eames arrived at the hotel just after Arthur the next morning.  He ran to catch up to Arthur as he was stepping in the elevator, but as Arthur turned he caught a glimpse of Arthur’s face, drawn and stern, and so very unlike the face he’d seen lit up only hours before.  Eames slowed to a stop, and watched the elevator doors slide closed without him.  He covered his face with his hands and stood stock still in the middle of that enormous midtown Manhattan lobby.  He didn’t know how to face Arthur; how to talk to him after having basically stalked him, and then peeped through his windows like some kind of horrible creeper.  It didn’t _feel_ creepy.  He hadn’t watched him undress or shower or masturbate or. . . His thoughts trailed off, imagining those long, lean limbs uncovered, Arthur’s sleek form arching and shuddering. 

“It wasn’t like that,” he murmured to himself. 

And it really wasn’t.  It was softer.  Sweeter.  It was! Not that he hadn’t imagined Arthur in more erotic scenarios.  Not that he hadn’t done some arching and shuddering of his own in response to those same thoughts.  But he hadn’t crossed a line.  And he wouldn’t cross a line.  He just couldn’t look at Arthur today. 

Eames took his cell out and dialed Arthurs number, listening to it ring once and then mashing the end button furiously.  Maybe he didn’t need to talk to him today either.  Yeah.  Ariadne was a much better person to call.  He dialed her number instead, and it barely rang before she answered. 

“Hey, Eames.  Arthur said he saw you in the lobby, what’s up?” 

“Yeah.  I got here, and then I realized I should really be somewhere else. “

“Huh?”

“At his school, I mean.  Elsewhere.  At the boy, uh, Mike’s school.  I’ve got to decide who to forge, right? Might as well talk to them.”

“Alright. If you say so.  But listen, Eames, I don’t want you to run off because of Arthur—“

“It’s not about Arthur.”

“Alright, but if it were about Arthur you should know that he doesn’t—“

“It’s nothing to do with Arthur.  Arthur is fine.  We’re fine. I’m fine.  Look, I’ve got to go.  I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eames said, his speech jumbled, and a little too rapid for even the least observant to believe, and Ariadne was _very_ observant, but with that he hung up his phone, switched it off, and shoved it in his pocket, trying to forget about it. 

Eames strode out into the brisk December air, and decided to walk downtown to catch up with Mike’s friends.  The air and the walk would do him good.  Clear his head. 

And they did.  By the time Eames had made it to NYU he felt much more in control.  He had his head screwed on, and he was firmly in information gathering mode.  He threw himself into his work, and flirted and cajoled and teased his way into a wealth of information.  He made his through the “campus” (not that it was really a campus so much as various buildings clumped somewhat loosely in the general area surrounding Washington Square Park) for much of the day. 

As the sun began to set he turned a corner in search of one last dorm building, and one last mark before he packed it in for the day, but when he looked up he stumbled, catching himself against the wall.  Eames felt like such an idiot.  He’d successfully avoided thinking about Arthur, and his beautiful face and his pert bottom and his Jewishness, and sadness, and the way his skin looked by candlelight, for over 8 hours.  He’d gotten himself together, and not stared and mooned and dreamed.  And then! He’d tripped around the village like an idiot, and wandered right down Arthur’s block.  Arthur’s block that was populated by Arthur.  Arthur who was climbing out of a cab. 

Now Eames was many things.  He was a fairly nice guy.  He was generous and caring.  He held doors for people, and helped old ladies carry their groceries home.  Eames was a good person.  But he wasn’t always a cautious person.  Or a sensible one.  And it was that part of his personality that had him following Arthur down the block, and listening to one half of his phone conversation.  He’d look back on things later, and realize that it was that part of his personality that he had to thank for almost everything good in his life.  At the moment, though, he was pretty sure it was a bad idea. 

“Yes, mom,” Arthur groaned, Eames grinned.  “I promise I’ll be there next year.  I’ve been home the last two years.  I intend to make a habit of it,” he wheedled. 

Arthur turned to walk up his front steps, and Eames dashed behind some frankly very smelly bins.  Arthur spun around at the noise, but shrugged when he saw nothing, and climbed to his front door. 

“It was a last minute thing.  A friend asked me for a favor.  I couldn’t say no to her.  Oy—“ Arthur cried, pausing as he dug for his keys, “I didn’t want to be here.  I wanted to be with you.  I promise I’ll be there for Hanukkah next year.  I’ll even come early, and stay—“

Arthur slammed the door behind him, cutting Eames off from the conversation.  Eames slowly rose to his feet, and snuck back to his hiding spot from yesterday, suddenly in much better spirits.  He settled on his haunches to watch Arthur light his menorah once more, a plan slotting into place in his head.  And that night if anyone’s face glowed it was Eames’. 


	4. Arba'a

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames is the man with a plan. This is terrifying to everyone around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a bit longer, but I got sidetracked writing another hanukkah fic. I will make up for the short chapter tomorrow! For now, though, enjoy some fluffy crack!

The Fifth Day

Eames woke up whistling the morning after his revelation.  For the first time all week he had a plan! He had stayed to watch Arthur for a few minutes, but left early to research!  Research is the foundation of any good plan, as Eames well knew.  He didn't have Arthur's prowess, but he was no slouch.  He found out that there were four more days of Hanukkah- Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.  Their job was supposed to be on Saturday, so that was the natural choice for a celebration, but Friday might be acceptable if they were on track. 

After the basics he fell into a multi-hour session of reading everything there was to know about Jewish holiday celebrations.  He found: there was a lot of eating, an enormous amount, really, and the whole burning oil thing resulted in artery-terrifying amounts of fried food in particular.  Also, there were yarmulkes.   Which were hilarious.  And adorable.  Eames added a camera to his mental list—if Arthur were to wear a yarmulke then Eames would _need_ to photograph it.  And finally there was the dreidel.  Hanukkah involved betting.  Eames was in love.  If Eames could marry a holiday he would marry Hanukkah.  There was food, hilarious fashion, and gambling.  Even if Arthur didn’t celebrate Eames was pretty sure he was going to from now on. 

Eames showed up to work a bit tired and run down (all night research sessions will do that to a man), but still happier than he’d been all week.  So happy, in fact, that Arthur and Ariadne both looked at him warily. 

Arthur took his pulse. 

Ariadne checked his pupil dilation. 

Yusuf took in Eames’ demeanor, shrugged, and said “He’s scheming,” before turning back to his equations.

Ariadne and Arthur were even more wary following that pronouncement, but they relaxed after they dug into their work, and saw that Eames might be in a frighteningly good mood, but he was still Eames.  Eames spent most of the day laying out his plan for the forge.  He would play the part of Mike’s best friend (and not so secret crush), a girl named Leah.  There would be lots of cossetting and crying and petting.  If things went according to plan, Mike would bare his soul under the weight of so much affection, and they’d be in and out of the dream in no more than 10 or 15 topside minutes. 

Arthur wasn’t convinced.  According to him no one would want to be vulnerable in front of a crush, not even one who was already a close friend.  Eames reluctantly laid out a backup plan—forging a close male friend, and detailing some sort of revenge plot, but he refused to try it first.  Love would win out.  It always did. 

Eames did take the chance to work Arthur up into a bit of a froth, though.  He was a good pickpocket, but Arthur was very spatially aware.  If Eames was going to lift Arthur’s phone he was going to need him distracted.  The distraction was a bit of pain, but the password was simple enough (Mal’s birthday), and he memorized Arthur’s mother’s number (she was in his phone as “Mommy”) quickly.  The only problem was replacing the phone after Arthur had calmed down.  Eventually he gave up, slide the phone between some couch cushions and made a bee line for the door. 

“Well! I think I’m going to head out for the day.  I’ve got to talk to a couple of candidates for my back up forge.  Thank you very much, Arthur,” Eames chirruped as he floated out of the room. 

As he closed the door he heard Arthur ask Ariadne “What do you think he’d up to?  I’m a little worried.”

Eames just grinned.  He had recipes to find, yarmulkes to buy, and a call to place to Atlanta.  Arthur would have no idea what hit him. 


	5. Hamisha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames meets someone even more capable than Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this actually takes place in a sort of flashback to the day before, for clarification.   
> Enjoy!

The Sixth Day

 

Eames never did manage to see Arthur on Wednesday night. In fact, Eames didn't really have time for much of anything.

See, he'd stolen ( _borrowed_ ) Arthur's phone and lifted ( _borrowed)_ his mother's number for a reason! Not just to because he could. Not even because it gave him an excuse to slide his hand along Arthur's thigh.  And so, Eames spent the rest of the evening with that reason. On the phone. Being bowled over by the most organized put-together and research person he had ever met. Eames had always thought Arthur had learned how to be a point man in the military, but it was clearly a matter of genetics. Their conversation went a little something like this.

 

"Hi! Is this Mrs. Goldstein? This is Eames calling, I'm a friend of Arthur's."

 

"Yes. I know who you are. The British one. You work with him. We've heard a great deal about you. Are you the friend keeping us from him this Hanukkah?"

 

"Uh.. No? That would be Ariadne?"

 

"Who? Oh never mind. You're calling for a reason. He's alright, I think. Pleasure then, not business. Oh! Are you finally coming for that visit then?"

 

"What visit? No. I was actually hoping you might come to me. To us. I know he's upset about Hanukkah, and I thought we might surprise him. Saturday, if it works for you?"

 

"Not Saturday. Friday. We'll fly. Rachel, David and the kids will drive. DC isn't too far. We'll come tomorrow I suppose. We would have already, but he told me the job was delicate."

 

"Rachel and David?"

 

"His sister and brother-in-law.  He hasn't told you?"

 

"Not their names."

 

"Oh Arthur," she sighed. "He does play it close to the vest that boy.  You’ll have to visit at some point.  Lots of things to do in Atlanta! We have a fantastic aquarium.”

 

“Oh.  I don’t know if Arthur would like that very much,” Eames demurred. 

 

“Nonsense.  Besides, it’s my home I’m inviting you to.  We can work out the details later. Alright.  So it looks like there are a couple of flights Thursday.  I suppose we won’t be staying with Arthur--”

 

“Oh! No, I’ll get rooms for you.  Perhaps where I’m staying?”

 

“Perfect.  Two rooms will be fine.  We’ll meet you at the hotel, and you can take us out for dinner.  We’ve been hearing about you for ages.  It will be such a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Yes.  I think so.  Now! About the party, I was thinking—“

 

“I’ll cook.  Don’t you worry about it.  I have keys to Arthur’s house.  If you keep him out all day I can set up everything.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Of course.  We can’t _buy_ the latkes,” she exclaimed, aghast.

 

“You know best.”

 

“I’ll bring everything we need, and buy the food when I get there.  Arthur has a menorah, but . . .  how many will we be? How many yarmulkes should I bring?”

 

“Oh, no!” Eames cried, “leave the yarmulkes to me.  Those, at least, I have a plan for.”

 

And that was that.  They exchanged numbers, flight information and the address of Eames’ hotel, and hung up.  And Eames was completely wrung out.  He mustered a last bit of energy and went out to pick up the yarmulkes he’d ordered the night before.  Afterwards he swung by Arthur’s house in a bid to catch a glance of his handsome face, but all he saw was the menorah in the middle of the table, candles burning low. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eames was still in a fantastic mood the following morning.  His plans were coming to fruition.  He was working a fairly cushy job, and actually doing a good deed at the same time.  And Arthur had mentioned him.  Arthur’s mother knew who he was.  She didn’t know Ariadne, but she knew Eames.  Eames finally felt a flicker of hope for his burgeoning crush. 

He floated through the day. 

Floated through the meeting with Mike’s parents. 

Ariadne and Arthur still seemed to think he was under the influence. 

Yusuf watched their interactions, deeply amused.

They were just coming to the end of their meeting with the parents when Eames received a text from Arthur’s mother.  He left Arthur to provide more calm assurances to the parents and quietly pulled Yusuf and Ariadne aside, furiously explaining his plans in hushed tones.  Yusuf roared with laughter.

“You hound,” he crowed, cuffing Eames’ shoulder. “Finally making your move!” 

Ariadne was quiet.  She studied Eames’ sparkling eyes, and red cheeks. 

“You’ll take care of him, I think.  You’ll be very good for him.”

Eames flushed, murmuring protestations, but he nodded soberly at Ariadne.

Eames saw Arthur shacking their clients hands, and making to leave, and ran off before he could join them, shouting over his shoulder that he’d call Ariadne that evening with details. 

Now he had plans for the rest of the day.  He was going to get gloriously embarrassing stories about Arthur! He was going to meet his family.  He wouldn’t admit it if asked, but he was filled with nervy excitement.  If he was lucky, if he played his cards right, he might be seeing these people again.  He might be meeting friends.  Family.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seeing my stepmother tomorrow after work, and I have no idea when I'll make it home. I will absolutely update, but it might end up being after midnight. I'm sorry! Just look at it as a nod to it being a Jewish Holiday--Sunset to Sunset!


	6. Shisha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames really meets the family, and Arthur . . . greets his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post. All the errors are mine, and sound fantastic to my sleep deprived brain. Tomorrow will be the second half of this momentous event, but for now...  
> This has been edited to fix some errors, but the plot is the same. I apologize for the errors. I didn't edit given the lateness of the hour this was first poster.   
> Enjoy!

The Seventh Day (Part One)

Friday was D day. Or maybe H day? P day! Yes. Party day. Eames woke up bright and early, and finally well rested.  He had spent the evening out with Arthur's family instead of perched outside his window. And even without seeing Arthur he felt he knew him, understood him, more than he ever had before. 

Arthur's mother was a revelation. It wasn't that Eames had had a bad childhood, a bad family, but it had been cold and regimented and full of quiet duty.  Arthur's family operated on a different schema. They did for each other for the joy of it, whether it be a small gesture like David pulling out Rachel's chair and adjusting her ponytail to hang free, or enormous, like Arthur's entire family changing their plans so that they could be with him for the holidays.

Eames was enchanted. If he hadn't already fallen for Arthur he would have fallen for him just for his family. They were excitable and funny, and yes, they exhausted him a bit. They dragged him to Central Park, and Times Square, and all the tourist heavy places he normally avoided in New York (though he did have a shameful fondness for the lights and drama of Times Square).

After their impromptu tour of midtown they went out for dinner.  Eames tried to pay, and was soundly rebuffed.  He was treated like a child, one of their own, and it was wonderful. It was at the end of the night that he discovered why he had been so easily welcomed and accepted, and it came in the form of the youngest of the crowd. Arthur's niece and nephew were five and two, and completely enamored of Eames.  They followed him around for most of the day, hanging off of him, demanding to be carried and held and told jokes.  They loved Eames’ voices, and they loved his clothes.  And they complained piteously when Eames brought them to their room after dinner.  He carried them to their door, and then passed them off to their parents, turning to walk away with Arthur’s mother and father so that they could plan the morning.

As they walked to the elevator he heard the oldest exclaim, “I want Arthur’s boyfriend to come be with us all the time! He’s really funny.”

Eames tripped over his own feet, almost wiping out completely.  Arthur’s mother winked at him.  Eames thought he must be in an alternate universe. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eames, at least, was having a pleasant Friday.  He did a quick walk through of the extraction with the others, and then high-tailed it out of there in favor of helping Arthur’s family cook and decorate. 

Eames had wrangled Ariadne into delivering Arthur to his party at the right time, and it was not going well.   Arthur was pleased with their preparations, and wanted to leave early, but Ariadne apparently had to wait for a brisket to finish cooking, and was forced to make up problems for them to work through.  When she finally reached their appointed time she sent off a text to Eames to inform him of their impending arrival, and attached herself to Arthur like a limpet, and followed him home. 

Upon returning home Arthur’s good mood abruptly vanished. 

“Get behind me,” he growled at Ariadne. 

“What?”

Arthur ignored her, shoving him behind him and drawing a pistol from an ankle holster. 

“You use an ankle holster!” Ariadne crowed, "adorable." 

“Anything else ruins the line of the suit,” Arthur whispered, checking the hidden alarms he had set to inform him if anyone else had entered his home. 

He eased the door open nearly silently, and crept into the foyer. 

“Um… Arthur I don’t think there’s anything wrong,” groaned Ariadne, “Put the gun away.” 

“You’ll thank me later,” hissed Arthur, turning into the dining room.

It wasn’t ideal to clear a room with only one person, but Arthur made due.  He checked the corners on his left, turning furiously to check the corners on his right and only then catching sight of his family.  

“Arthur!” cried his nephew. 

“Arthur, you’re here,” shouted his niece. 

“Indeed he is. Isn't he silly,” laughed Eames, stepping up to pull Arthur’s gun from his nerveless fingers and flick on the safety. 

“Happy Hanukkah, “ said Eames, cupping Arthur’s cheek with his free hand, his non gun-occupied hand, “happy Hanukkah.” 


	7. Shiv'a

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited party.  
> Arthur got his surprise, and now Eames gets his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to write this chapter for days, and I really love it. I hope you do too.  
> Do check out the end of chapter notes. I had a couple of specific notes and a thank you that I couldn't put before the chapter for fear of spoiling some plot points (by which I mean silly, silly jokes.) 
> 
> But first: Some definitions for those of you who are not one of the chosen people. ;P 
> 
> Yarmulke: [A skullcap worn during prayer (some argue it should be worn at all times, also know as a Kippah)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kippah)  
> Sufganiyot: [Doughnuts traditionally eaten on Hanukkah (normally filled with jelly or custard)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sufganiyah)  
> Gelt: [Chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanukkah_gelt)  
> Dreidel: [A spinning top (and the game you play with it)](http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/how-to-play-dreidel/)

The Seventh Night

 

Arthur smiled, leaning unconsciously into Eames’ palm.  They had been staring at each other for only a second, and before Arthur could regain his composure, enough to actually respond, he was nearly knocked off his feet by two incoming balls of energy covered in suspicious amounts of powdered sugar. 

“We came for hannukah, Uncle Arthur,” squealed his niece Leah, herding her brother David close. 

“I can see that,” laughed Arthur, kneeling to talk to his niece and nephew. 

“It’s a surprise,” exclaimed Jacob. 

“Is it a good surprise, Uncle Arthur?”

“The best surprise,” he intoned, pulling them in for a tight hug, and looking up at Eames from across the room, “the very best surprise I’ve ever had.” 

Arthur stood and shuttled the kids back over to their mother, leaning in to greet his sister with a kiss. 

“I can’t believe you guys came.  You didn’t have to.  How did mom know?”

“I didn’t know,” chided his mother, coming up behind him and pinching his cheek, admittedly quite hard. 

“You didn’t tell us.  Thankfully Eames thought you deserved a proper holiday with your family, and called us to set up this party for you.  You’ve found a good one there, “

“I know,” he whispered, flushing. 

“I hope you treat him well.  Now then, say hi to David and then come say hello to your father and we can eat dinner.” 

Arthur dutifully hugged his brother-in-law, and then allowed himself to be walked over to his father for an even longer hug.  Then he followed his mother into the kitchen, listening to her chatter the whole way. 

“You’re looking very slim.  Are you eating enough? There’s nothing in your frig.  Do you not have time to make food? We cooked all of your favorites, of course.  Brisket, latkes—“

“Sufganiyot,” chuckled Arthur, indicating the children’s powdered sugar covered faces.

“Sufganiyot, yes. Salad, mushroom barley soup.  And baked beans.”

“With ham?” squeaked Arthur. 

“Well, yes.  It is your favorite.” 

“But mama it’s _Hanukkah._   It’s a Jewish holiday. “

“Yes.  And if you can’t break the rules in favor of a little celebration then when can you?”

Arthur groaned, but he snuck a bit of the baked beans anyway.  They were perfect; they really weren’t the same without the ham. 

“Arthur,” called his father from the dining room, “tell your mother to stop fussing with the food and come in here for a minute so that we can light the menorah.  The food will keep.” 

Arthur and his mother laughed, but obediently left the kitchen and returned to the dining room to something of a spectacle.  As per usual, at the center of the spectacle was Eames.  Eames was modeling a yarmulke.

“Please tell me you did not buy that,” Arthur whispered to his mother. 

“Oh no, he insisted on picking out the yarmulkes,” his mother responded. 

“Oh god, there are more?”

Arthur watched as Eames adjusted his red and orange paisley yarmulke before producing a bag from behind his back and proceeding to pass out yarmulkes to each of the family members as well as Yusuf and Ariadne. 

The ones for Rachel, David and Yusuf were, thankfully, a bit more sedate—darker colors with gold embroidery.  The ones for the children had flowers on them.  Leah put hers on immediately, then looked to see her brother’s. 

“Hey! You gave him one with flowers,” she cried yanking the yarmulke out of Jacob’s hands “flowers aren’t for boys.” 

Eames knelt down in front of her, and gently extracted the yarmulke from her hands, and gave it back to her brother. 

“Flowers are for everyone.  Boys and girls.  I’m a boy, and I like flowers.  Girls and boys are allowed to like anything they want, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise, alright?”

“Alright,” she breathed gazing worshipfully at Eames.

Eames gave her a quick hug, then leapt up to finish passing out the yarmulkes.  For Ariadne he had red and white checkerboard.  For Arthur’s father he had tweed, and for Arthur’s mother he had lilac lace.  Eames came up to Arthur, flushing sheepishly, and fingering the bag. 

“So, Eames.  Did you get me one? Maybe one with flowers?”

“Yes, but— Oh… did you want one with flowers? I’m sorry—“

“No.  I don’t particularly want one with flowers.  So what did you pick for me?” 

Eames reached into his bag and pulled out two yarmulkes—a navy pinstripe and a dark brown herringbone. 

“I wasn’t sure which to get so I got both.” 

Grinning, Arthur reached out and plucked the herringbone from Eames’ hand. 

“Both good choices, but herringbone is my favorite pattern.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur lit the menorah, noting, with a flutter, how Eames seemed to glow in the candlelight, and how he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Arthur.  He really did look particularly handsome in the lighting, even with powdered sugar handprints on his jacket and that horrible yarmulke on his head. 

When they had finished lighting the menorah they all moved into the kitchen where Arthur’s mother was laying out an enormous spread of food.  Ariadne gaped at the number (and volume) of dishes, then tentatively took a plate and piled it high—latke’s perched precariously on the edges of the plate, and two enormous vat like bowls full of soup and beans balanced on one arm.  She caught Arthur staring, and shrugged. 

“I’m hungry.  It was hard work keeping you out of the house long enough for your mother to cook it all.  You didn’t think I really had that many problems, did you?”

Arthur coughed, choking on his laughter, and good naturedly nudged Ariadne. 

“Thank you,” he replied. 

“Don’t thank me.  It was all Eames.  I didn’t know about it until yesterday.  He’s been working very hard on this, I think.  And you look very happy because of it.” 

“I am happy.”

“Good,” she nodded.  “Happy is a good look on you.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening passed in much the same manner.  They ate and ate and ate until their bellies were bursting, and at least a third of the food had been consumed.  They chatted and laughed and played.  Arthur’s father was discussing his Tom Wolfe inspired teenage experiments with Yusuf, who in turn told him everything he knew about the actual chemical properties of acid. 

Arthur helped his mother dole out more food, and clean up as they went.  She gave him a bit of the third degree about Eames, but Arthur clammed up and didn’t respond except to say that he and Eames needed to talk before he said anything. 

Rachel and David fell asleep on Arthur’s couch.  And Ariadne and Eames kept the children occupied; giving their parents perhaps the first uninterrupted sleep they’d had in five years.   Eames produced an enormous sack of gelt and some dreidels from somewhere, and he and Ariadne played dreidel with the children, getting thoroughly trounced.  Ariadne looked pleased as punch with this outcome.  Eames looked confused.  He kept giving the dreidels test spins, running his fingers over them looking for differences and weighing them in his hands to see if his might be weighted differently.  He even got Ariadne to switch dreidels with him, but he continued to lose all of his gelt to the kids. 

As the evening was winding down they exchanged presents.  Arthur had sent his along to his parents, but it seemed they’d brought them with them.  There were toys for the children.  Books and clothing for everyone.  Even Yusuf and Ariadne received and gave small gifts.  Eames sat and watched with a supremely satisfied air.  He had gifted everyone with sweaters.  Ugly Hanukkah sweaters.  And they were supremely ugly, and Eames thought it was glorious. 

It was closing in on midnight, and Arthur reluctantly suggested they end their celebration.  He was having an amazing time, but they had to work the next day, and the kids were fading fast. 

They packed up the food and foisted as much as they could on Ariadne, Yusuf and Eames.  Gathered up the presents and said their goodbyes. Arthur may have gotten a bit teary when he finally got to his mother, and enveloped her in a hug. 

“This has been the most wonderful Hanukkah, Mom.  Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me,” she said, kissing his forehead.  “You know who you need to thank.  Take care of that boy, who is decidedly _not_ already your boyfriend.  We’ll talk about that later.” 

Arthur flushed, and nodded, rather cowed.  He helped everyone out the door and loaded them all into cabs.  Each cab pulled away until he was left with just Eames. 

Eames got into his cab, and went to close the door, but Arthur’s hand shot out and stopped him.  Arthur leaned into the cab, close to Eames, and reached in to thread his fingers through his hair.  Arthur grinned and re-pinned Eames yarmulke from where it had been hanging from his head, only staying on by virtue of the hair clip he’d used to pin it in place.  Arthur finished pinning the yarmulke, then cupped Eames cheek and leaned in to kiss him, long and slow. 

Arthur pulled back, and whispered “You’re always supposed to kiss someone for luck if you put their yarmulke back on after it’s fallen.”

“Oh,” breathed Eames.  “Is that true?”

“No, it’s not,” chuckled Arthur, pulling away and slamming the door to the cab, leaving a completely speechless Eames to pull away from Arthur’s house.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Eames' Hanukkah sweater: [Oh my goodness...](https://www.etsy.com/listing/168606340/jew-chainz-two-chainz-star-of-david-chai?ref=shop_home_active)
> 
> And a big thank you to [earlgreytea68](http://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68) who let me borrow their favorite patterns from her incredible [The One Where They're Stars on HGTV](http://archiveofourown.org/series/213512) series. If you haven't read it yet I'm extremely jealous because you get to experience that joy for the first time. That's ok, though, I'm sure it will be just as good on the fourth read when I do go back to it.


	8. Shmona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Eames do their jobs, and finally talk to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized while writing this chapter that Arthur's niece, and Mike's crush both are named Leah. Whoops. I might change that later if people find it confusing, but I don't think it's a terribly big deal.  
> This is unbetaed as always. Sorry for the state of my commas.

The Eighth Day

Eames would not say he was particularly well rested when he woke very early to say goodbye to Arthur’s family.  He helped them carry their bags out, and settled them into their car and cab respectively.  The kids , overwrought and exhausted wept when they were settled into their car seats, but Eames solemnly promised to visit them in DC, and they were somewhat mollified.  Arthur’s father and brother-in-law told him he was welcome anytime, but Rachel piped in that he was only welcome so long as Eames was treating Arthur right.  Eames thought of the kiss from the night before and turned bright red.  Thankfully they didn’t press him, and all turned to go. 

Before she left, however, Arthur’s mother wrapped Eames up in her arms, then pulled back to place a tender kiss on his forehead. 

“Thank you, Eames.  For what you did for us this week, and for what you’ve always done to take care of our Arthur.  I don’t know about Rachel, but I don’t think we have much to worry about with regards to how you’ll treat our boy.” 

“No ma’am.  I’ll take care of him as much as he lets me.” 

Arthur’s mother studied Eames face, and sighed, “You’ll let me know if he isn’t treating _you_ with care, alright?  I’ll knock some sense into him. “

Eames flushed, and nodded, too overwhelmed to speak for once in his life.  He stood on the pavement and watched as their cars were swallowed up by the beast that is New York traffic, then he returned to his room and passed out for a blissful four hours. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Eames woke up he had just enough time to grab a quick shower and a cup of coffee before he headed to the hospital to meet the rest of his team.  Today they were finally finishing up the job.  Normally Eames would be excited to move on to the next challenge, but the fragile thing he was building with Arthur felt so tenuous, and he wasn’t sure how to help it grow and strengthen instead of break.  That was a question for tonight, though.  For now he had a job to do, and his love life didn’t trump a boy’s safety. 

When he arrived at the hospital, he was surprised to find Yusuf and Ariadne setting up, but Arthur hadn’t yet arrived.  Eames stepped into the hallway and called his cellphone.  After three rings Arthur finally answered it. 

“Mmph?”

“Hello sleepyhead.  What day is it?”

“Saturday?”

“Yes! Good job, darling.  And what are you doing this Saturday?”

“…Shit.  I’ll be there in thirty minutes.  I’m practically on my way already.  I can’t believe I did this.”

“Shh.  It’s alright. Yusuf needs to do an allergy test with the somnacin variant.  It’ll take an hour at least.  I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t… bolted, or something after last night.” 

“I wouldn’t do that.  I’ll be there in 30.”

Arthur hung up, and Eames leaned against the wall with a sign of relief.  He closed his eyes, lost in thoughts of the evening before, and content to let Yusuf and Ariadne run the show until Arthur arrived.  He didn’t see Arthur stride around the corner and stop short at the sight of him, eyes closed, neck arched; his shirt, haphazardly buttoned that morning, revealing a bit more of his chest than he’d intended.  He didn’t see Arthur touch his fingers to his lips, a small smile tilting up the corners of his mouth.  No, Eames saw the buttoned up, point man Arthur became after he’d shaken off the wash of affection and lust that had stopped him in his tracks.  Eames felt Arthur’s hand on his shoulder as he was pulled from his reverie, and  time seemed to slow as Arthur pulled him off the wall by his arm and then let his hand slide down to Eames’ hand and tugged.  Or maybe squeezed his hand.  He couldn’t be sure.  Either way they had a job to do.  Eames couldn’t help it if his hand tingled, though. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The job went off without a hitch.  In fact, they could not have scripted it better.  Eames’ first forge provoked an immediate reaction in their mark, and he spilled the story without even being questioned.  It seemed Eames had chosen the right pressure point, because the fight had actually been about her.  Mike had overheard Leah’s ex-boyfriend talking to his friends about plans to try to get her back.  Of course those plans sounded a lot more like assault than anything else (suffice it to say the plan was little more than “get her drunk, then get her done”).  Mike lost it, and started screaming at the other boys until they shut him up with their fists and feet. 

Eames woke up feeling nauseous.  It was a terrible story, but in the end it proved fruitful.  They got the names of Mike’s attackers.  They protected Leah from her ex.  And it seemed the somnacin variant Yusuf had used (or maybe it was just the dream itself?) was having a positive effect on Mike’s brain function.  As they were packing up and leaving they heard him groan out Leah’s name.  He was still under, but things were looking up. 

They carried their equipment out of the hospital, and stood on the curb, keeping an eye out for free cabs. 

“This is odd,” said Yusuf. 

“Well _I_ think it’s lovely to not end a job with us running for our lives,” groused Ariadne. 

“True, pet,” replied Yusuf, ushering her into a cab.  Both waving goodbye to Arthur and Eames as they pulled away. 

“…Since when has that been going on?” queried Arthur. 

“Beats me.” 

“So—“

Eames stomach decided that this was the perfect moment to growl ridiculously loudly.  Eames flushed. 

“Uh, sorry.  I guess I’m just hungry,” blurted Eames, “what were you going to say?” 

“Nevermind.” 

Arthur flagged down a cab and slid in.  Eames felt himself deflate.  He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and confused and angry with both himself and Arthur. 

“Eames. . . Hey? Eames.”

Eames swallowed, and looked up at Arthur. 

“I’ve got a lot of leftovers, if you don’t have any other plans?”

Eames laughed. 

“Alright, darling.  That’s a start.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought I would be done with this fic, but I am not. I'm going to post a short morning after epilogue tomorrow. (Which seems appropriate, since technically Hanukkah doesn't end until sundown tomorrow.) 
> 
> I am also considering adding a separate story about what happens after they eat their leftover latkes. It will also be fluffy, but instead of angst there will be shameless smut.


	9. L'hitraot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big thank you to everyone who's been liking and commenting. I could not have done it without you. So here's an extra little bit of fluff. I hope you enjoy!   
> This has been a wonderful experience, and I'm very glad I decided to do this. Stay tuned for a couple of additional stories in this world!

Eames drifted to consciousness slowly the following morning. The smell is what hit him first. It was woodsy, maybe pine. " _Arthur_ ," he thought, blinking open his eyes to take in the dark sheets, the light streaming through the windows. He rolled over in search of Arthur, but the bed was empty beside him. He felt a momentary clutch of terror in his gut before he registered the quiet rumble of Arthur's voice from the other room.

"Mom . . . Fine . . . No, he's asleep."

"'M not asleep, " called Eames.

Arthur opened the door to the bedroom and peaked his head in. Eames beamed at him lazily, grin growing even wider as Arthur flushed and ducked his head.

"It's my mother," he whispered, covering the phone.

"I love your mother."

Arthur shrugged and passed the phone over.

"Hello Arthur's mother. "

"Please. I think you can call me Kate. Or mom."

"Alright, mom," Eames grinned.

"Does that mean I get to call you--"

"Nope! No one calls me that."

"Alright, alright. Worth a try though. Arthur tells me he's treating you right. Is he treating you right?"

"He's treating me like a prince," Eames purred, pulling Arthur into bed and stroking his hair.

"I told you, mom," Arthur shouted into the phone, finally relaxing into Eames.

"Alright then. You come visit us soon, you hear? I promised an aquarium visit, did I not?"

"You did. Take care."

Laughing, Eames hung up the phone and tossed it on the side table.

"Sorry about that."

"Not a problem, darling."

Eames grinned down at Arthur, cupping the back of his head and pulling him into a deep kiss. After a few moments and the development of a crick in his neck, Eames leaned back flat against the bed, and pulled Arthur half on top of him. Arthur huffed indignantly, but even as Arthur complained he snuggled close.

"You're here," Arthur sighed. "Of course I am," replied Eames.

"That was never a question. I was always going to be here as soon as you asked for me. The real question is: when are you taking me to Atlanta?"

Arthur sat up, turned over and straddled Eames lap.

"I was thinking Purim."

"What's that," gasped Eames.

"Another Jewish holiday," replied Arthur, "it's in March."

"March..."

"Problem?"

"No, but what are we going to do until March?"

Grinning, Arthur ground down against Eames, then leaning over to capture a kiss he replied, "Oh I'm sure we'll think of something."


End file.
